


A Year for Legends

by Ulan



Series: Tilion's Night [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Legends, M/M, Mating Rituals, Rivendell | Imladris, Sequel, Third Age, mates for a fixed period
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/pseuds/Ulan
Summary: They say that through Tilion's Night, the mate that we need is chosen for us by the grace of the Ainur. Mated Elves are then given a year together to spend however they choose, all for the sake of love and healing.Winter has ended. Glorfindel's year with a mate begins.(Sequel to Tilion's Night)





	1. Echuir, 11 T.A.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know, I cannot believe my gall either. I have too many other WIPs to get back to before starting a new one, but this just wants to be written.
> 
> I have been sitting on this story since Tilion's Night. Over the past year, I accumulated snippets of things between Erestor and Glorfindel and what it would be like between them given a year together. Their story weirdly developed a slice of life feel to it, but I liked it and thought it is appropriate for the theme, so I went with it. I hope you find these two as charming together as I did. :)

There were many new things that greeted Glorfindel when he was reintroduced to Middle-Earth. 

It had taken him a while to get used to things, to how different the land could seem to one who was supposed to know it longer than many who walked this new earth. He wondered if it was true that in time people lose the vividness of memory, for upon alighting in Mithlond, he remembered thinking how bright the Sun was, reflected in the waters of Lune. Glorfindel was told that it was still the same chariot pulled by Arien across the heavens, the same one he saw in Valinor as well as from Gondolin long ago. It was unclear to him, however, if it was the smoke of Thangorodrim or the shortcomings of even Elven memory that made the skies in Beleriand seem greyer compared to Middle-Earth in peace time. 

Then again, perhaps he was a bit biased, looking back on things now that he was where he had wanted to be. It even took him a while to get here—nearly half an age—for even with all of Lindon's majesty and beauty, and for all that Glorfindel's heart had been set on protecting the great kingdom, Glorfindel the Elf had still been called to Imladris when the humble realm began to take shape. It was not a pull that can be easily explained, for how does one even begin to describe that haunting longing as one looked at the deep greens of that hidden valley? Every time Glorfindel was called upon as emissary of the High King, or whenever it was that Imladris needed aid, despite the exhaustion that the constant skirmishes and encounters brought, it was always a relief for him, seeing Imladris. 

The valley had its unique charm. More rustic than Lindon, about as noisy although in a different way, there was always something that still surprised Glorfindel nearly every day, even now that he was a permanent resident. 

That day, in particular, his trip back from the training fields brought him to a crowd of... well, an assortment of Elves, running back and forth around the market square. A fierce-looking fellow was in the middle bellowing out orders, and on the ground upon a straw mat were five pristine boar carcasses, freshly hunted. 

That had Glorfindel blinking in surprise and with not a bit of curiosity. He was about to look around again to see what was going on this early in the day, the Sun having only risen enough just to give a bit of light. But a youngish-looking Elf came barreling down and would have collided with him if not for the hand that shot out and pulled him out of the way. 

"Careful, Captain." 

Glorfindel recognised that voice just as he heard it chuckle behind him. He turned, and sure enough there was Erestor, impeccable as always even this early after sunrise. 

"Here." The Chief Counsellor pulled him further back, a little more towards the street leading to the main house, up a few steps and away from the crowd. "Do not get in their way. If you are foolish enough to place yourself in the middle of the hunters' auction, not even your name or your lovely golden head can spare you from getting stamped on by these good Elves."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. Erestor knew of Glorfindel's struggles with his name, or even with how impossibly conspicuous he was in the new age. But although the other was sensitive enough to spare Glorfindel from situations when things could get truly awkward or difficult, he was not above teasing him every now and then. 

Well, Glorfindel did not really mind it—at least not with Erestor, and especially not when he more than made up for it whenever he smiled to let Glorfindel know it was all in good fun. Erestor smiled, too, as if he was giving it in secret, to be seen only by whomever it was who inspired it. It was one of those things that endeared him to Glorfindel. 

As though to further appease, the grip that held Glorfindel lightened, sliding higher up his arm and resting on the crook of an elbow, and stayed there. 

"What is going on?" Glorfindel asked the other, growing comfortable now given the welcome company. 

"Is this the first time you have seen this?" Erestor nodded over to where the crowd was thickest. "Few things yet grow this time of year and many things sleep still, but there is some game to be hunted in the surrounding hills. The hunters keep watch so we do not take more than we need, but of course arguments arise on which artisan would get which supply. The smaller items are bountiful enough to trade, but there is high demand for the boars, as you can see." 

"Aah." Glorfindel once again surveyed the area. Already the auction was in full swing, the loud fellow in the middle shouting out bids for the first boar along the line. From what Glorfindel could see, either that piece was especially a good one, or Erestor had been right about the high demand. Nearly all the places Glorfindel knew had representatives during the auction, until finally, they watched as the first boar was awarded to a bright-faced elleth. 

"Ah, my good lady," said Erestor with a tone of satisfaction. "That concludes my errand for today, for already Rhíweth gets first share. What a relief." 

"Rhíweth, the one whose store you frequent often?" Glorfindel remembered the place, for Erestor brought him there often enough for him to even have favourites of his own. He looked suspiciously at the counsellor. "You came down here to make sure the best item goes to your favourite, didn't you?" 

Erestor scoffed. "Nonsense. Anyway, when it comes to provisions as popular as these, I sadly do not have any influence." Glorfindel could not help his amused laugh at the look on Erestor's face, as though he truly mourned such lack. "I do, however, would like to know if there is a possibility for good dinner tonight. Rhíweth's braised trotters is nothing you have tried, I'm sure." 

"Why, Chief Counsellor, are you asking me out to dinner?" 

Glorfindel meant to tease, but the moment was broken before it could even begin. Just then, another Elf came running down the steps, knocking Erestor's shoulder as he passed. 

"Oh, careful there!"

Glorfindel was quick to turn and catch Erestor and it was almost immediate, the way his arms wrapped around that slim waist. His hands rested on the same nooks they did in private, and it seemed even Erestor found himself in the same predicament, all to easily finding his arms around Glorfindel's neck. They caught one another's eyes, and there in that busy market where too much was happening for anyone to really take notice, Glorfindel could see that they nonetheless shared that trickling of self-consciousness, and even a bit of shyness.

They were, of course, familiar in a way not yet known to others in Imladris, but it was a secret that brought a smile on Glorfindel's face. Erestor, in turn, just seemed to fondly shake his head even as he pulled away. Glorfindel mourned the loss, for Erestor had been warm in his arms and the sweet scent of his skin and hair still wafted around Glorfindel, standing closely as they were. 

"My thanks, Captain," said the counsellor with some amusement. "It looks like my good deed is returned all too soon." The words were said as clearly as Erestor's usual were, but that close he could not hide the flush on his cheeks from his companion. He pushed on though, as was his wont, which was something Glorfindel greatly admired in him, even if Erestor did so with his fingers carefully tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and without meeting Glorfindel's eyes. "But dinner, yes, if you would care to join me this evening." 

It sometimes still surprised Glorfindel how much about Erestor he now seemed to notice: the flow of his hair, the grace and economy of his movements, his deep green eyes, the ripe colour of his lips. He was struck by the great desire to kiss him, there in the middle of that crowd, but he shook himself of the impulse, for it would not do to do such a thing with that many people around them. After all, they have not yet shared the development of their relationship just yet with anyone.

And so instead, he smiled, although judging by the way Erestor cleared his throat and looked back and away at the crowd, Glorfindel's thoughts must have been clear on his face. Well, he did not intend to keep such things from Erestor anyway. He even slipped his hand to briefly grip the other's own, this time behind their robes so no other could see. He then leaned closer so he could whisper his next words to Erestor's ear. 

"I would like to take you up on that offer. I look forward to dinner, and more."

* * *

For some time, Glorfindel entertained the idea that perhaps he had been too easy.

He heard of whirlwind romances, yes, but only in stories, and never had he thought himself to be the type to find himself in the middle of one. In his old life, and really even as recent as his life in Lindon, he had been careful, even reserved, more prone to quiet evenings alone. It was therefore quite the jump from such evenings to the near constant company he had in the past season. That is not even considering the sort of... activities he and this particular companion got up to, during those times. 

He and Erestor came together through Tilion's Night, a celebration around winter solstice when the Moon shone full and round on the longest night of the year. Erestor had been the one to tell Glorfindel of the tradition and the legend behind it, and how it was a way for Elves of the new age to deal with the loneliness that plagued so many of their kind. With Tilion's Night, a bond between two Elves for the duration of a year was allowed, allowing companionship and intimacy not otherwise expected outside of a marriage. 

It was perhaps not the kind of thing Glorfindel would have indulged in had he been back in Gondolin or even in his short stay in Aman, but there was something about things now that seemed... appropriate, more forgiving, of indulgences such as this. In the aftermath of the war, what little gift of foresight he had told him it was time for calm and settling. It was a time for living, for discovery, and perhaps that was why he was more easily swayed into things he seldom had the luxury to even consider in his old life. 

When the Valar requested for his return, he was promised opportunities to live life as he saw fit, if such choices could but allow what the Valar needed him to do. Truth be told, at the time, Glorfindel had not yet been entirely certain what he wanted for himself, but he saw no reason to refuse the Valar. He returned to Middle-Earth and came in to the service of the High King, and so jumped head-first towards all its wars and all its pains. His own desires then mattered little, and the Second Age, as far as Glorfindel was concerned, passed only too swiftly. 

Tilion's Night had been his first gamble when it came to living. It was not like anything Glorfindel knew, but if there was anything he had to be thankful for, it was that at least he did it with someone trustworthy and reliable. The first morning after the ceremony would have been the most difficult part, for devoid of that mysterious excitement and magic of the moonlight, it had everything set for a strange and awkward morning-after. But even then, Glorfindel woke up to sunlight and smiling, intelligent eyes. He even remembered how good Erestor looked even among the crunching leaves, hair down and cheeks flushed from the cold. Erestor had turned to him, taken his hand, told him: "Come, the cold must not be pleasant," and led him to the kitchens of the Homely House, whose greeting to them had been warm fires and the smell of freshly baked bread. 

The rest of winter passed quickly after that. Glorfindel never forgot that he wanted his partner to be Erestor even before the ceremony began. At the last moment, when Erestor revealed to him how good and interesting of a person he was, Glorfindel had wanted to leave the ceremony, pulled by the desire to just spend the evening getting to know this other Elf more. When he eventually was pulled towards that bonfire, when he received his match, he could not forget the relief and delight that washed over him, warming him from winter chill, as he pulled down his partner's hood and saw that familiar face. 

The kiss, too, and more after it, had been a revelation. 

He was a compelling Elf, Erestor. Glorfindel knew him, of course, even fought on the same side of a war with him, but it was different knowing someone who was part of the same council during a time of war and knowing them in civilian clothes, learning of their likes and dislikes, entering a room and having them greet you with a secret smile. Glorfindel did not have much chance for romance in his old life, and so the butterflies he felt in his stomach every time Erestor cast him those sidelong glances was only too real, nevermind that they were well beyond his years. 

Erestor was good company, and the more Glorfindel spent time with him, the more he felt the need to know everything about him. Erestor was one of the few people who could converse comfortably with Glorfindel in this new age, which Glorfindel appreciated, even if (that was, perhaps especially because) Erestor sometimes took it to the point of amusing irreverence. 

"If your thoughts can drift in the middle of something like this, I must be losing my touch." 

Glorfindel had to laugh, though the sound came out faint and breathless. He looked down at the Elf who had situated himself on his knees between Glorfindel's legs. The sight of Erestor pristine, nary a strand of hair astray, with his chief counsellor's circlet around his head and rings of office clinking as he undid the ties on Glorfindel's breeches, never failed to get the blood pumping to the surface of Glorfindel's skin. He had to shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall of the alcove Erestor pushed him in—and wasn't _that_ also an exhilarating thought. 

"Elbereth help me if you ever get better than this," sighed Glorfindel. His fingers carded through Erestor's hair—or tried to anyway, for they were quickly slapped away.

"Hands off, Captain," admonished Erestor. "We still have work to get back to after this." 

Glorfindel would protest more, for there were few things better than the feel of Erestor's smooth hair between his fingers. Having Erestor's mouth on him though was easily one of those things. He had to bite back his pleasured groan as Erestor cut to the chase and swallowed him down, all the way down until the counsellor’s nose was pressed up where Glorfindel's tunic was bunched up and held out of the way. 

Elbereth's _stars_ , was Erestor good at this. Glorfindel had to push away that part of him that wondered how many times Erestor had done this all before, with whom had he done such things, and whether the others felt as good as Glorfindel felt in these moments. It made him grit his teeth harder, hold Erestor by the back of his neck and under his hair as he coaxed Glorfindel to _move_ , in and out of his mouth, hot and slick and welcoming. 

Erestor was everything when it came to this, accommodating and willing and could just _take it_. Glorfindel never imagined he could be rough with a lover, but then perhaps he never really knew lust as strong as when Erestor inspired it in him. Erestor was beautiful—that striking face, the way he moved, the shape of him under Glorfindel's hands—and that he allowed Glorfindel access to it all was the most indulgent thing Glorfindel ever had in a long time. 

"Erestor, I am—" 

And by the Valar, those eyes, the way they looked up from thick, black lashes as Erestor pulled slowly back and lapped teasingly up to the head—Glorfindel could come just from the sight. Erestor fortunately understood the stilted warning, for he wrapped his mouth around Glorfindel's cock again, sucked it down, pulled back to stop at the tip while his hand pumped it up and down to finish the job. The back of Glorfindel's head made a loud 'thud' as it hit the hard wall behind him but he did not care, did not even feel it, so thoroughly did the pleasure of coming in Erestor's mouth wash over him. 

Erestor's mouth continued nursing him with gentle suction and light kisses, kept at it until Glorfindel was emptied and could no longer take it, so sensitive did he already feel. He thought he saw Erestor's lips curl up when he pulled the counsellor to his feet, but whatever smugness the other might have felt at the moment, Glorfindel swallowed with a kiss. 

“Wait, I just—"

"I do not care." It was ridiculous that Erestor even thought Glorfindel would be bothered by the taste of their kiss after what they just did. Besides, whatever oddness there might be was more than made up for by the thought that it was he, Glorfindel, who claimed Erestor's mouth so thoroughly. The softness of those lips, the slick, easy way they yielded, also certainly helped. 

But the sound of footsteps immediately had them both stilling, and then pulling away. Glorfindel pulled Erestor closer to himself and they held their breaths, listened to the footsteps, which thankfully did not sound as though it was moving towards their direction. 

The silliness of their situation—two senior officers tucked in an alcove—was not lost on Glorfindel. He snorted. “Why are we even hiding?” he whispered (though really just because it seemed appropriate to do so). 

“I beg your pardon?” asked Erestor as he turned his face towards Glorfindel. “Would you rather I suck your cock in broad daylight?”

That, of course, had Glorfindel’s hand flying to Erestor’s mouth, but not without the surprised captain bursting out in laughter. “Erestor!” Really, sometimes he could not keep up with Erestor, even if his style did entertain Glorfindel greatly. “How can you even say those things out loud?”

Green eyes rolled to the ceiling as Erestor pulled Glorfindel’s hand away. “Easily,” was his response, “especially when your First Age sensibilities are so easily scandalised.”

“My First Age sensibilities,” Glorfindel blandly repeated. “How dare you, when you even come from the same age as I have? Not to mention that you are the only one I hear who says things like this.”

“I don’t know, but it might have something to do with the fact that, currently, I am the only Elf with any business near your… _special appendage_ , and so of course you do not hear such things from others.” Erestor ignored Glorfindel’s renewed laughter and merely tilted his head in mock curiosity. “Or should I be worried? We have not even begun the new year; must I already question your faith, Captain?”

Glorfindel shook his head, but he also did sigh and pull Erestor closer to himself. “Nay, of course not,” he said. He leaned over to plant a soft peck on Erestor’s lips, something he could easily do now, odd though that might seem given the nature of their partnership. If he ever wondered about how fast and easy things seemed with Erestor, he needed only spend time with the other before he would find himself falling to the motions. He liked holding Erestor, liked kissing and touching him and all those intimate, familiar things. “I stand by this match, and shall hold you to your end of the arrangement as well, should I ever believe that you are straying.”

Erestor gave him a faint smile. “Straying is too complicated,” he said, in a voice that almost seemed fond. He leaned up the short way needed to plant his own soft kiss on Glorfindel’s lips. “I am not so young nor impatient; I can at least promise you the one year.”

* * *

“I have noticed this for some time now,” said Elrond one day.

Glorfindel turned back towards his lord, as he had been on his way out of Elrond's office after they have just concluded their meeting. "Noticed what, my lord?" 

The Half-Elf smiled in that kind way of his. “You are settling down well here finally. I was getting worried," he said. "Has something happened lately?" 

Glorfindel felt his face grow warm at hearing the other's observation, and wondered if he should tell. "I suppose you could say that," he began, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I confess I have been at somewhat of a loss coming here at first, but I now have help." 

"From Erestor, I see, yes." Glorfindel could not quite read that look in Elrond's eyes. The other seemed to be amused. "I cannot say I can imagine how that has happened, but there is a good fellow to have on your side. You are lucky." 

That pulled Glorfindel's lips into a smile. “Is it so strange?”

"Well, perhaps not so strange. You are contemporaries, and I think even for Erestor, this is a good thing." The dark head tilted thoughtfully at this. "We can all use friends, can't we?" 

"Aye, that is true," agreed Glorfindel. He wondered what Elrond would say if he knew the extent of Glorfindel's dealings with his chief counsellor. 

But help indeed was what Erestor provided. It was easier going around Imladris now. Glorfindel was less conscious of things that used to bother him—the stares, the respectfully downturned heads, all the things that alienated him from the rest of the valley. 

It could simply be time passing, but then perhaps it could also be that he seldom had to stand alone for very long anymore. Erestor had a way of finding him in crowds, and he would tend to stand with Glorfindel, and it made a difference. 

Interesting, what that a sense of security can provide. 

They dined together in the evenings, always, without it even having to be said. Two seasons now that he and Erestor were mates for the duration of a year, and things had gone more easily than Glorfindel had expected. As Elrond had said, Glorfindel and Erestor were Elves of nearly the same age, and so knew many similar things. Erestor insisted he was younger, but did not say exactly when he was born, to Glorfindel's great exasperation. It was only the faint light of Aman that Glorfindel could recognise that let him know Erestor was at least born in those lands, but other than the mention of Himring back during Tilion's Night, Erestor's stories of himself were still sparse. 

Glorfindel did not really mind. All of them had their stories to tell, and for all the years that they lived, it would also take years to get to know it all. Anyway, he liked Erestor as he knew him in Imladris, or even the Elf he knew from Lindon. He liked how the other seemed to know the valley so well, having been one of those with whom Elrond built it. What lack in stories of himself he might have had, Erestor more than made up in stories of Imladris. Glorfindel might have been there when it was built as a stronghold east of Lindon, but he did not know it in the common, comfortable and everyday way that Erestor did. He showed Glorfindel the shoppes and the lesser known streets, showed him how the valley worked to sustain itself, who were the Elves to talk to when he needed one small thing or another. The more Erestor showed to him, the more convinced Glorfindel was that Imladris was peaceful in a way unlike any realm he had ever known. 

"It is, in a way," Erestor later said when Glorfindel pointed it out. They were walking together down one of the main house's hallways, the walls tinged with purple-pink light from the setting Sun. "A haven after the fighting—a home. Aye, that is what I had wanted, and no doubt Elrond as well." 

"It took some time for Imladris to be built fully, I remember." 

Erestor nodded. "Yes. Some decades after those long sieges. But strangely, despite the difficulties, it felt like a place that wanted to be built. Everyone who was there in the building seemed to see the same thing, and so we went on to build towards that shared vision. It was strange."

"Strange, perhaps, but not in a bad way." Glorfindel sighed, content, as he looked around them. "My heart is easy here. It has always been, from the very beginning. I wanted to be here."

"Perhaps you also had a vision of it in its fullness even that early," suggested Erestor. 

Glorfindel smiled at that. He had long noticed that compliments paid to Imladris pleased its chief counsellor. "Well, perhaps," he could not help but agree.

Outside the windows they passed were the gardens lit still by sunlight. Glorfindel's attention drifted to the lawn, all green now with no trace of white, and he could even see some sprinkling of colour where the early flowers were blooming. 

"Spring soon," he said.

Erestor hummed quietly beside him before saying, "Counting down the time you are with me already? Am I boring you, Captain?" 

Glorfindel huffed in amusement and shook his head. "Not at all. Far from it. I even find that time passed far too swiftly. I barely felt winter, and now it seems the flowers are blooming sooner than I expected. It is true what they say, about how time just flies."

"If you are having fun?" quipped Erestor. 

"If that is what you would call it," said Glorfindel, smiling. "But this season and the last did pass too easily, I feel. Is that not unusual?"

"Take it for what it is, Glorfindel, and just enjoy it. This year could be your well deserved respite." 

It was one of the things Erestor often said. The year given by Tilion was a blessed one, a gift for those who sought for anchor when they felt they were still adrift or sailing in turbulent seas. Glorfindel could not disagree, for already he had taken much comfort from Erestor, so much so that he had already become so familiar to Glorfindel, one who could bestow comfort and peace of mind to him with just a touch. 

Pulled by a sudden desire, no longer even alien now that enough time had passed, Glorfindel checked their surroundings. Satisfied that they were alone, he stopped, pulled Erestor to him, and allowed himself only a moment to enjoy the look of surprise on the counsellor's face before he leaned in to kiss him.

“Are we hiding this?” he asked against those lips, breaking their kiss for a moment to speak. 

“This?”

“Is it something people do not often tell? Don’t people eventually figure it out?”

Erestor pulled back a little, dark eyebrows rising at the question. “Who would you like to tell?”

Glorfindel shrugged, but slid his hands down to take Erestor's, eyes following the movement. "Nobody in particular, just..." He stopped, took a deep breath, and remembered all those times when they were out and he wondered what it would be like. His eyes rose to meet Erestor's again. "The First Day’s feast is coming soon, where we shall all make merry and greet the coming of spring. I would be... honoured, if you came with me.”

Erestor blinked up at him, but at least the widened stare allowed Glorfindel a moment to admire the jeweled forest hue of those eyes. He had grown rather fond of it. "You mean... like as a partner?" 

“Yes, Counsellor, exactly like a partner.”

Was it so strange, Glorfindel wondered, to want to be more free in public? This may be a union that was not the usual, but he imagined he would still enjoy walking hand in hand somewhere with a lover. He thought he saw more people doing so after Tilion's Night, and so he thought that discretion was not a requirement of the ceremony. Perhaps Erestor was truly just a private person.

“All right.”

Not sure whether he heard it correctly, this time, it was Glorfindel who blinked. “Yes?”

Erestor smiled in a way that could easily be missed, so faintly did he do it. There was that curling at the corner of his lips, the slight softening in his eyes. In all the times that Glorfindel caught Erestor smiling, he would always feel that fluttering in his chest, like a hatchling testing its wings.

“Yes.”


	2. Ethuil, 11 T.A.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is art that goes with this! Sort of. Back when I was supposed to be writing this (waaay back couple of months ago), I procrastinated even further with a drawing, which you can now find [here](https://www.deviantart.com/pagsibol/art/Ethuil-Glorfindel-and-Erestor-745914387).

"Blue maybe?"

They were in Glorfindel’s room that day. The wardrobe was open and on the bed were already a few robes deemed unsuitable for the festival. They had decided that they would go together, and so Erestor was there to see what Glorfindel had that he could match for the occasion—one of those “couple things” people did, as Erestor had called them with his eyes to the heavens.

Glorfindel turned to show Erestor the outfit he had picked out. The chief counsellor, from his perch on the edge of Glorfindel’s bed, tilted his head as he perused the robe.

"'Tis too dark for a spring festival, don't you think?"

Glorfindel looked down at the evening blue robe and supposed he had to agree. A shame, since if Erestor was going to match it, it would be a good colour on him. "Something brighter it is," he said, turning back to the line of robes behind him. "Perhaps this green one?"

The next one was a robe of light green, trimmed with golden threads that made intricate swirls up into a field of flowers along the neckline. It made Erestor smile, and when his eyes shifted from the robes to Glorfindel, there was a telling twinkle there. "Very 'Lord of the Golden Flower'," he said—eloquently, for he needed not say anything more before Glorfindel was wincing and pushing the robe at arm’s length.

"Right, as if we all need further reminding. Not that one then." Glorfindel quickly put that one back (and told himself never to wear it again) and stood back thoughtfully, surveying his options. "What do you think of reds?"

He heard a hum behind him. "I suppose they are festive."

"Which is what we are going for…” The captain turned back to his companion. "So why the tone?"

Erestor’s smile was apologetic as he shrugged. "That red is not your colour, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel snorted, but his lips pulled into a smile. Sometimes Erestor said things straight, too. "No, but it is yours, I noticed."

"One of them anyway." Erestor finally stood up and approached the wardrobe. His hand landed lightly on Glorfindel's arm as his other one reached over the taller Elf's shoulder, shifting some clothes about before pulling something out. "Here, a compromise: instead of the deep red, how about this one?"

The counsellor had pulled out a lighter set of robes, reminiscent of fresh blooms and rosy flushed cheeks. He held the robes up and below Glorfindel's chin, his eyes dragging up and down as he stood back to check the other. When their eyes met again, Erestor's lips were curled at the corners. "I did not say they would not work altogether. This one is at least appropriate, and I even like how young they make you look."

Glorfindel had to smile. Erestor had a habit of making off-hand comments like that, his tone occasionally teasing. It was certainly a novel thing, for hardly anyone spoke to Glorfindel thusly. This of course also meant that Glorfindel was not used to receiving such words, which probably meant that there was at least a faint flush on his cheek now.

It was not a bad sort of feeling—unfamiliar perhaps, but not bad. He looked down at the robes that Erestor held up to his chest. "I can wear this one if you like it."

"I have a set of my own that can match this," said the counsellor, his hand a comfortable weight on Glorfindel’s chest.

The latter's head tilted curiously. “May I see?”

It was a dark brow that lifted this time, but Erestor’s lips still had that teasing curve to them. “But then it would not be a surprise.”

It took a while of prodding and accusing Erestor that he was just too lazy to fetch the item in question before the chief counsellor finally relented and left the room, presumably to get the aforementioned robe.

He returned with a set of white robes with a rose outer coat that matched the colour of Glorfindel’s own robes. It was not a set that Glorfindel had seen on Erestor before, but the inner robe looked like it would fit him well. That, along with the softly flowing outer coat, promised to be an interesting ensemble indeed. Erestor tended to dress sharply, so seeing the flowers delicately embroidered on to the cloth would be a pleasant, rare sight.

Glorfindel had delightedly realised that Erestor had a body made for belts and form-fitting things. He was tall and lean with a waist that curved slightly, a shape usually hidden beneath the thick outer coats of his office. This ensemble might have a coat that would do the same, but Glorfindel could imagine the nearly sheer material of the inner robe, cinched at the waist, would hug Erestor's body just right. It would be a treat for Glorfindel's eyes, not to mention his hands, when they held Erestor close for the dances.

He caught Erestor’s eyes and implored, “Wear it, please. I want to see you in it.”

Thin lips twitched at the request. Glorfindel's thoughts must have shown on his face, for this time it was Erestor’s dark head that tilted to the side. “You have that look about you, Captain,” the counsellor quipped. “I am struck by an odd urge to protect my virtue."

 _That_ pulled a laugh out of Glorfindel, though perhaps his cheeks also felt even warmer.

He could not put his finger on it. They acted much like a lot of mates do, but if they were truly wed, they would be in the same room, sharing the wardrobe, with the bed Erestor had earlier been sitting on as much his as it was Glorfindel’s. But Erestor had said that while there were those who did things that way—thereby using all the advantages that the match allowed—he had tried it and had not liked the awkward year-after when it all must come to an end.

It was stories like that that reminded Glorfindel that what they had was not a sure thing. For all that they acted the part, he thought that perhaps he was beginning to see what it meant when they said that Tilion’s blessing was a means to ease loneliness. The match did away with the uncertainties of courting, allowing each party to fill the part of a lover and go straight to all that such relationships provided: affection, ardour, companionship. But there with it also was an unnameable sadness that he could not yet quite understand; remnants of whatever brought people to take that step toward the bonfire, perhaps, an emptiness filled only partially.

But Erestor was beautiful, and Glorfindel felt affection for him with an ease that surprised even himself. It was something new, to be attracted to someone and indulge that urge, unlike in the past when he might have appreciated someone but let it go. Yet beyond his looks and what could be gained from first impressions, Erestor proved more of an ideal companion than Glorfindel could have hoped. Smart, sharp, and familiar with the old lands and the old ways so that nearly every evening spent with him under the stars was good and nostalgic, he was balm to a soul thrown in vastly different lands, but longed still for places forever lost under the Sea.

"Come now, Erestor," he coaxed, something he had learned in the past season worked well enough with Erestor. "Perhaps I could even help you with those clothes."

It was easy, too, to pull Erestor into a kiss, the kind they shared that flowed thick and sweet. They shared a few moments with just soft lips pressing, but soon enough Glorfindel's hands began to wander, his tongue darting between only too willing lips. It surprised him how much he had grown to like this, how every kiss held such promise, leading him to wish for more. Erestor's moan—sweet-sounding every time—pulled from Glorfindel an answering intake of breath, and he pulled Erestor tightly against himself.

The shape of Erestor under his palms was truly a wonder, firm muscles and perfect curves adding to the allure of the moment, nearly overwhelming that part of him still dazed at the thought that this was even allowed. He wondered if this was what seduction would have felt like, had he allowed himself to answer the advances he received in his old life. Erestor's fingers buried in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp and causing Glorfindel to shiver. He pulled at the ties on Erestor's robes, from the little knots at the neckline and the belt that held everything together. He pulled Erestor to a deeper kiss as he parted those robes first at the waist, then up to slide the fabric off a finely boned shoulder, the skin revealed fair and perfect. Erestor sighed into their kiss.

But then he pulled away at the next moment, and Glorfindel was stunned to find his arms were suddenly empty. His lips were cold from kisses taken away before he was willing to let them go, but before he could remedy the lack, his captive had escaped and was walking towards the bed.

"Erestor—”

The counsellor looked over a bare shoulder. "You wanted to see, did you not?"

Glorfindel blinked, desire a steady thrumming in his ear. His eyes slid down from that shoulder to where bare skin met cloth down Erestor's back. "Well, yes, but--"

And then his breath caught in his throat as Erestor turned his back fully to Glorfindel. He then let the rest of his robes fall, the material pooling at his feet, from which Erestor stepped out before bending down and picking it up. His black hair was the only cloak left to him as he did so, and Glorfindel watched transfixed, following Erestor with his eyes as the other took the white and rose-coloured robes and donned it. The smooth fabric danced around the shape of him, not allowing Glorfindel to forget the peaks and slopes of the body beneath.

Despite the abrupt end to their earlier activities, Glorfindel found his supposed protests quieting. Erestor continued to fix his clothes and it was such an engaging sight, the colours so different from his preferred blacks and neutral hues. His movements, as always, were elegant and beautiful to the point of distraction. Glorfindel wondered what it made him if he enjoyed Erestor equally clothed or unclothed. Certainly, he had never allowed himself to entertain such thoughts for another before, but so easily did they come to him now.

But truly, like this, Erestor reminded Glorfindel of spring time, enough to serve as reminder for the upcoming feast, which he suddenly felt excited to attend.

He found himself stepping towards the other, reaching for his hand, pulling, but not without first murmuring against Erestor perfumed hair. "On the day, let us weave flowers in your hair."

Erestor turned to face Glorfindel. What he saw on Glorfindel's face at that point could be anyone's guess, for Glorfindel did not know what to call what he felt either, and Erestor had a way about him that made it difficult to figure out what he was thinking, save for the things he chose to divulge. Even now his expression was unreadable, his eyebrows relaxed arches above his eyes, which flitted across Glorfindel’s face.

"Please, no," said the fey creature in Glorfindel's arms eventually, but not without a smile. "I have not worn flowers in my hair for centuries."

"I would love it, though." Glorfindel reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Erestor's ear. He did not know why, but he truly wanted to see the image his mind conjured of Erestor and spring time. "Please? I would even wear them with you."

Erestor must have seen something worth indulging on Glorfindel’s face. His eyes went up to the ceiling, but he also sighed. "Just small ones."

This time, it was Glorfindel who smiled—widely, for happiness bloomed in his chest at the acquiescence. "Good," he said, pulling Erestor to himself as he did so. He looked once again at the rose-coloured robes. "You are beautiful in this, and so I concur that it was a good choice. Now..." His arms wound around Erestor once more, and his lips brushed against a delicate, pointed ear. "Please take it off."

* * *

_Iestor_ was always a busy affair.

Never had Glorfindel seen an Elven realm that did not celebrate the new year to the point of excess, and even Imladris seemed to be no better. All around them were splashes of colour near overwhelming in their brightness, so much so that Glorfindel had blanched at the amount of flowers used in the decor.

"Calm down," Erestor had whispered in his ear when he saw Glorfindel's troubled face. "Many of them are still in their pots and will continue to live past this day. The ones that are not, we have in abundance, and they were grown for the occasion."

Glorfindel looked down at the dark head beside him, surprised that Erestor was so quick to understand. "How did you know?"

"Those books about you have some use, don't they? Besides, I reckon there is a reason that you are 'Lord of the Golden Flower'." Erestor's smile was knowing. " _Were_ , that is, but then I would argue whether such things ever completely leave us."

"Aye," agreed Glorfindel, although he wondered that this time, the admission did not offend him as much. "Some parts of our old selves remain. I enjoy flowers most in their natural state and with but a few requested from the shrub if they could spare them for our hair, but I am loath to use so many of them merely for decoration. I do not begrudge it of people, only perhaps hope that they would waste them less."

"There are some here who agree, hence the ingenious manners by which one can hide the pots." Erestor turned their attention to a nearby window where many coloured primroses peeked through their green leaves. A careful hand lifted some of the leaves and revealed that they were planted along the sill in a sturdy-looking line. "Or do without them entirely. I believe these ones will be a more permanent fixture, wouldn't you agree?"

People were quick to find them. Many heads bowed in greeting, either for the chief counsellor or to Glorfindel, or both. Such things were at least better with Erestor with him, for the other seemed more comfortable than Glorfindel was when it came to such formalities.

Some friends came to greet them as well. Elrond raised an eyebrow at them at first, but eventually approached with a knowing look in his eyes.

"I had wondered about you two," he said by way of greeting, giving Erestor a look before turning to Glorfindel. "I said you could use a friend, but it appears that you worked for something beyond that."

Glorfindel laughed. "Apologies, my lord, but your chief counsellor was too charming and I could not resist."

"Hardly," injected Erestor. "There was no charming that occurred, except perhaps on the captain’s part, per his usual. You could make a survey of the valley to check."

Elrond shook his head at them both. "Will we get to know how this happened at all?"

Erestor met Glorfindel's eyes before he answered. "Tilion's Night," he said, by way of explanation.

Elrond’s brows seemed to furrow slightly at this revelation. "Oh, I see." His eyes alternated between the two of them. "I suppose that explains how fast the courtship seemed to happen. Granted, I had thought this was more permanent, but I suppose congratulations are still in order." He turned, however, to Glorfindel. "But to you, Captain, my condolences."

Glorfindel could not help his bemused chuckle especially as Erestor promptly backhanded Elrond's arm. The Lord of the Valley only let out a hearty laugh in return.

"Do not listen to him," said Erestor to Glorfindel with a mock scowl, "for I am, in fact, a pleasant partner to have around."

"Good thing you did not simply say 'company' because I have anecdotes that can prove otherwise," teased Elrond. "Then again, those would be all from your colleagues and subordinates, not lovers."

"I so far have no complaints," said Glorfindel with a smile, his hand reaching out to grasp Erestor's. Said smile widened when Erestor returned it with a grateful squeeze to Glorfindel's fingers, obviously pleased, before turning smugly back at Elrond.

Elrond only looked amused and unimpressed. "Glorfindel is a loyal lover—really, I am not surprised. Did I not already congratulate you, my friend?"

They had a few more exchanges with Elrond. That was, Erestor and Elrond exchanged a few more rounds of jokes, which was to say that Elrond had a few more things to say before Erestor had had enough and dragged Glorfindel away from what suspiciously sounded like cackling from their lord.

Thus began their time at the feast. They parted at some point, each meeting and greeting colleagues and old friends. They walked in different circles enough for such things to not always align, and eventually Glorfindel lost sight of Erestor. He was entertained well enough as he found a few familiar faces and some of his fellow warriors. A few of them even introduced him to their spouses and dates for the occasion, which was eventually what led Glorfindel to once again scan the crowd.

He later found Erestor near where the refreshments were. He was with Lindir this time, the chief minstrel, whom Glorfindel had to regard with fond amusement. Even from afar it was clear that the minstrel’s lightly coloured hair was bedecked with flowers, and he was talking animatedly to Erestor.

Glorfindel was only able to catch part of what Lindir was saying when he was finally near enough to them to hear.

"--and yet here you are, all fine and dandy! I thought you said never again?"

Erestor seemed to have sensed Glorfindel approach, and his eyes met the other's momentarily before flitting back to Lindir. "I never said that."

The minstrel's response came in a high-pitched voice. “ _'I wonder at times at the sheer indulgence allowed by this so-called blessing. Either it truly is jarring at the end or my sensibilities are just too delicate for this tradition.'_ "

Lindir and Erestor had a rather strange friendship from where Glorfindel could see. The latter seemed often teased by the other, yet Erestor was still often in the minstrel's company.

The counsellor sighed and nodded once at Glorfindel—who now stood to join their little circle—acknowledging the captain's presence before turning back to Lindir. “And what about you? Were you there last solstice?”

"Have I ever missed it?" Lindir's smile was bright as he lifted his chin to peer over the heads in the crowd. He pointed to an Elf conversing with another off to the side. “There’s my sweet one over there.”

“Dorndir?" asked Erestor, who was quick to recognise the other. "Not a bad one, I suppose.” He turned to Glorfindel and explained, “Dorndir is one of the fellows who tend to the gardens. He is also a bit of an artist, likes to sculpt things. Very good with his hands.”

"Oh, _yes_." Lindir was quick to grin. "Very good indeed. But while I thank you, dear Counsellor, nevertheless everyone is of the opinion that you had the best of the lot this year.”

“News does travel fast if people already have opinions, considering it had barely been an hour since we arrived." Erestor eyed the crowd around them, but his lips quirked at the corners when he looked back at Lindir. “I myself do not know many other matches, but I suppose I am inclined to agree with you.”

“I am right here, you know,” Glorfindel thought well to point out, but this only made Lindir laugh.

"Oh, please. It is not as if it is any great secret that our esteemed captain also happens to be the most eligible bachelor this side of the Sea." Glorfindel groaned at this, but it only served to set Lindir off again. He slapped a hand over Glorfindel's shoulder, turning to Erestor. “Oh, I do like you. Erestor, perhaps you are open to an exchange? How is he in bed?”

Glorfindel knew Lindir was joking—at least he hoped so—but he nevertheless blanched at the suggestion and felt mildly appeased when Erestor flicked Lindir between his brows. "That is harassment, oh idiot minstrel. He is new to the tradition, not to mention to Imladris, so spare him from your questionable jokes for maybe a year or two, hm?"

"That hurt, you boar!" Lindir rubbed at the spot Erestor's finger had hit. "I bet you just want him for yourself, you greedy miser."

Perhaps it was all friendly and in good fun, but Glorfindel nonetheless thought it wise to break up the two. He took Erestor’s hand and placed it at the crook of his own elbow before turning to Lindir. “I beg both your pardons, but I recognise this song and hope Erestor would dance it with me. Would you excuse us, Lindir?”

Music and dance indeed were good ways to distract Lindir, who thought the excuse completely acceptable. Glorfindel had to laugh at the suggestive whistle that followed them as they left. He turned just in time to catch Lindir disappearing in the crowd, likely to search for his own paramour now that his companions had gone off and left him.

Erestor followed Glorfindel’s lead, allowing himself to be pulled with lips he kept closed though a smile still played at the corners. They reached the dance floor and found an adequate area for themselves amidst the sea of Elves. Glorfindel led them, and he coaxed Erestor’s arms around his neck, his own linked and resting on the small of Erestor’s back.

“You are in Lindir’s favour now, I think,” was the first thing that Erestor said. There was an easy smile on his face and his voice was soothing despite the high energy of the festival around them.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Is that even a good thing?”

Green eyes twinkled, and Erestor’s smiled widened so his teeth showed. “Most of the time anyway.”

Glorfindel found Lindir once again in the crowd easily enough, and he could see that the other was indeed in the company of the gardener, Dorndir, whom Erestor had named. “Is it true that he always joins whenever Tilion’s Night occurs?”

Erestor’s eyes followed where Glorfindel’s was. He seemed to mellow at the question. "Be kind and judge him not,” he said. “Lindir is that way, but I believe he was truly in love once, with an Elf who has already sailed. They were good friends as children, and Lindir’s regard stretched as far back as even in their days of youth." Erestor seemed to sense Glorfindel’s interest. He looked up to meet Glorfindel’s curious gaze, but the smile he offered this time was dimmer than how it earlier was. "But there is little reason to hold out hope, for even when that Elf was here, our friend’s love was not returned. They were good friends but nothing more, and that Elf is married now, some years back before sailing. So you see, it is no surprise that Lindir turned to Tilion.”

It was not the kind of story Glorfindel expected from one as bright as Lindir, and he could not help it when his eyes strayed up again, searching the crowd. He found the slight minstrel still in the circle of his partner's arms, both their faces fair and glowing with their smiles. Dorndir even laid a kiss on Lindir’s cheek, after which Glorfindel looked away, allowing them their privacy.

He ran his eyes over the crowd around them. This being spring time, it seemed couples were open in sharing their affections with one another. It was also the spring after Tilion’s Night, and Glorfindel wondered how many of these couples were like him and Erestor and were only together by way of that tradition. Watching them now, however, and still unable to tell which of them were couples since last winter and which ones were true beyond that, the idea felt like it was only now sinking in: people played at being lovers after Tilion's Night.

Glorfindel supposed that that was what it was. He used to wonder at how fast they fell to the motions, but it was Erestor who set the pace and Glorfindel, being the newcomer to this tradition, merely followed his lead. It was as though they skipped courtship and jumped straight to being lovers, with all the familiarity and expressed desire that came with such unions.

Looking at others now—how kisses were shared, how laughter came aplenty, evidence of shyness few and far in between—he thought perhaps his and Erestor’s way was not so unique. Perhaps this was how people were when they practised such a tradition.

* * *

It was convenient at least, having the chief counsellor for a lover.

It had been some days since the new year's feast, and the days were beginning to grow longer. With the backlog from winter having piled up, it was a miracle there was still any surface left on Glorfindel's desk. He was ever busy with the guard, especially with the previous captain finally sailing, and it was a rare day when Glorfindel could finally sit and look at the stacks that continued to accumulate in his office at the barracks.

That day was at least a little better than others. Erestor was behind the desk with him, looking over a report the latter had passed on to him for his review. Their sides were pressed together, warm through their clothes, and the counsellor even had a hand leisurely resting on the back of Glorfindel's chair.

"And this one," Erestor said, encircling a portion of the report and marking it elsewhere with an arrow. "This goes here, not here. It will be easily missed the way you wrote it earlier. Also, please do not forget the tag over here; the code for the army should be in that list I gave you before. Please check what number you are using now for your files, otherwise we will be spending extra time years down the road just checking if we are pertaining to the same items."

"Right, those codes." Glorfindel rubbed at his eyes, already feeling his mind filling to capacity. "Where did I even keep that list again? There are so many things to remember."

"If you are a repository of millennia-worth of knowledge, it is not merely convenient but vital that you have a filing system." The chief counsellor folded his arms to his chest, clearly not impressed that Glorfindel lost his list. "Even now we are organising what we had from Lindon, which I need not remind you was even your doing."

"By _your_ and Elrond's orders." Glorfindel sighed, but he did begin opening the drawers in his desk. "Of course I would bring those things with me, seeing as you and Elrond all but requested that the entire library be brought to Imladris. Besides, you have a different system here from what I am accustomed to, and while I commend you for your organisation, it is hardly the easiest thing to learn."

Erestor at least seemed to ease off and merely chuckled at Glorfindel's complaint. "Bear with it for now, Captain. Give it some time and you should get the hang of it."

Glorfindel sighed and went on to open the third, larger drawer. There on top of the stack was... well, not the list he was looking for, but it was a thing he had set aside to show to Erestor when he next had the chance.

"Speaking of old files," he said, pulling out two scrolls tied together. He figured that it was a good time as any to show them to Erestor. "I found this the other day and thought it was interesting. It had your signature. Will you tell me what it is?"

Erestor peered over Glorfindel's shoulder as the other unrolled one scroll. He made a curious sound upon seeing it though, causing Glorfindel to look up at him.

"So that is where that went," said Erestor. "I had fully expected the old bastard to have just thrown it in the fire."

Glorfindel's brows furrowed. "Who did?

"The previous captain." By the pinched expression on Erestor's face, it would appear that although the captain before Glorfindel had only recently sailed, there was no love lost between him and the chief counsellor. "I proposed that to him, but he said he did not have the patience for it. If you ask me, the bigger problem was that he just did not have the head for it."

Erestor took the scroll and rolled it out further on the table, and it was Glorfindel this time who looked over it curiously from beside Erestor's elbow.

On the parchment, which Glorfindel had studied previously but was only able to understand part of it, was filled to the margins with numbers and diagrams. Some notes were there to describe what was written out, but it was midway reading those things that Glorfindel decided it was best he left it to Erestor to explain.

"This is supposed to be a means to determine how large a contingent should be sent out to patrol or to guard an area, given certain circumstances," said Erestor. "I, of course, oversee the treasury, and you know how much of it already goes to the guards. I have had enough arguments with the old captain to believe that we needed a method by which we could both agree or at least back up claims for more expenses that go over-budget. I knew the odds were slim that he would accept this proposal, but I figured I had the numbers, so I may as well try."

"Why do you say he would not accept this?" asked Glorfindel.

Erestor turned to face Glorfindel, leaving the scroll open for the captain's perusal as he sat on one corner of the desk. "He had a terrible mistrust of numbers, that is why—which makes no sense. Did he think his barracks were built by us just stacking one rock over another?"

Glorfindel looked back down at the scroll, but he still had to admit that very little about it made sense to him. The parchment was filled with numbers and notations only half of which he recognised, and despite the notes, it was still all rather specialised. Having seen the second scroll, he knew that one was even worse—he deduced that it was an accompaniment to the first scroll, expounding on the main equations there, but it also took up more than half of the writing surface to list a series of calculations.

"To be honest, I myself do not understand what I see in these scrolls," Glorfindel admitted. "What exactly do they mean to say?"

For a moment, Erestor looked hesitant to explain. Glorfindel wondered how bad that first discussion must have been for him to think that maybe further discussions with another might prove as futile. Not that Glorfindel could reassure him that he would understand, but he could at least say that he was more open to trying than his predecessor was.

"Come," he said, smiling up at Erestor. "Explain it to me. Perhaps you might have better luck with this captain than you did with the other."

Green eyes lowered, nearly hidden behind dark, thick lashes. A smile played at the corners of Erestor's lips as he leaned against one hand on the desk, relaxing atop his perch. Glorfindel traced the line that lithe body made right in front of his eyes, just once, but that was enough for Erestor to catch him.

The smile on that handsome face widened. "I think I already got lucky with this captain, would you not agree?"

Glorfindel felt the heat on his cheeks, but he met Erestor's eyes. "Who says you cannot get luckier?"

It was Erestor who bent down first, but that was not to say that Glorfindel was not already in a state so that he stretched up the moment Erestor was close enough to touch. He caught the other's lips in a kiss, heating almost immediately as was their wont these days. Erestor tasted of the tea Glorfindel had served him when he came to the other's office, and while they truly intended to work that afternoon, he supposed things like this were inevitable.

The sharp intake of breath Erestor made when Glorfindel pulled at a bottom lip with his teeth was still so sweet, even now when they have done so for all of two seasons past.

"You do realise we should not be doing this when we are discussing business?" This was said in between Erestor closing the soft petals of his lips around Glorfindel's. "Elrond will reprimand us both, saying we are clouding our judgment."

"Mm..." Fingers buried only deeper under Erestor's hair. "I understand, but that does not mean you are making a convincing case."

They eventually part, and Glorfindel was glad to see the more relaxed expression on Erestor's face—not to mention the red and the sheen on his lips, always so soft-looking and sweet.

"Come," said Glorfindel, more softly and with his thumb brushing gently against Erestor's warm cheek. "I promise to listen, and to not throw your scrolls in the fire because they offend me with their complexity."

Erestor still did not look completely convinced, but he sighed and turned to look at the scroll once again. His arm was a welcome weight on Glorfindel's shoulders.

"There are different factors we look for when we try to predict events that may cause alarm or call for heightened vigilance in an area. These factors could be characteristics of a given territory, historical activities, the season and the like."

So far so good, and Glorfindel nodded to say he understood. The chief counsellor continued. "I have made the initial calculations and have narrowed down a few key factors that account for a big part of the odds of danger coming. I have proposed that in determining how many men ought to guard an area, we can limit our attention to these things."

Glorfindel's grasp of numbers were adequate for practical purposes at best. He caught some of the things Erestor explained, fared better when the other pulled out a map, but he had to keep up still for much of what Erestor explained. Of course he knew that there were people who came up with the sort of things they used so that they ensured their buildings were fortified and could see centuries of use, the type of things that let them build stronger bridges and better bows, keep record of the population and the sort of things that help a city run. It was just that he never met with many of them, much less knew them in any intimate sense enough so they would teach him.

"My last argument with the captain had been because I refused to allot resources for his wish to increase the number of men south of the Last Bridge. He said I undermined him by trusting in numbers instead of putting faith in his expertise." Erestor shook his head and sighed. "Of course I recognise that he would have a better sense of the field than I would these days, but I am not without experience myself. I know enough to know how reliable such methods are. I need better reasons than a soldier's gut feeling before I can cut the resources meant for artisans and their apprentices and give it to the guards."

Glorfindel looked down at the scrolls again. He knew that the battle for finite resources was a never-ending one, and the negotiations could get messy. He could understand the desire for more ways to decide such things. "How did you come up with these numbers?"

"Oh," said Erestor. "It was something we were developing back when Ost-in-Edhil stood. _Fonoded,_ we called it, for it sought to foresee what may come. The peace afforded to us by High King Gil-galad allowed for many disciplines to prosper, and I had an affinity for strategy and numbers. We conducted regular census, had records of our activities, reports from scouts, logs of all things that threatened that peace. Eventually you realise the data you have and what you can do with them. When there are free nights and records to pull up, one finds things to do and discover. Here..."

Erestor pulled the second scroll and laid it out on top of the first. "These are the calculations we came up with based on our records. When we apply them to historical events, the forecast—that is, whether it could tell what happened next—was sound. However, we were yet to test it to predict actual cases, ones that occurred in the present and how well we could trust our recommendations. That was the assistance we needed from the guard." Erestor sighed and threw up his hand. "Just my luck that the captain of the guard was a conservative imbecile."

Glorfindel had to press his lips to keep from laughing, for he did know the previous captain briefly and thought him a friendly fellow well enough. "So you just need to test them?" he said instead, looking up at Erestor. "I mean, he is no longer captain now."

Erestor did not immediately speak, but Glorfindel could tell he was keen and interested. His eyes had lit up for an instant before the shutters and the mien of the chief counsellor, not the scholar, returned. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Glorfindel smiled. "Erestor, what you have here is incredible. We could actually use this, so far be it for me or the guard to get in its way."

Erestor clucked his tongue. "That is what I have been saying for a hundred years!"

"Let me help you, then." Glorfindel looked down at the figures again, and then back at Erestor. "Teach it to me, whatever I need to know, and I can ask someone in every patrol to keep a record for you. That is what you need, is it not?"

It did not seem like the kind of thing Erestor had expected that day, but Glorfindel could tell he was not displeased. Far from it. "Yes, that... that would be most helpful."

And once again, Glorfindel smiled. Some days, he also would like to believe that Erestor might think that it was useful, being lovers with the captain. Erestor was not one to be effusive, but Glorfindel could see the colour of his skin and that was all the tell he needed. It was enough for him, and so he chose to give Erestor an easy out.

"So... numbers, is it?" he asked the other. "That is interesting. It fits you."

Erestor walked around the desk and settled on his earlier seat. "We all have our special interests. In fact, what would yours be, I wonder?" At Glorfindel's curious stare, Erestor further explained, "Your surprising things."

"Surprising things?" Glorfindel paused to think. "Well, considering your opinion of military men, I suppose it might surprise you that I do, in fact, enjoy reading."

Erestor's lips quirked, his dark head tilting to the side. "Oh? What kind of books?"

"Many kinds. Things that would be useful to my vocation mostly, but also stories and poetry. I also like to draw and so... well, somehow I got into map-making."

Dark eyebrows rose, and Erestor's smile widened. "Really?"

Glorfindel laughed and shrugged. "They are interesting, no? I can stare at maps for days. At first it was just useful, roughly drawing them for our records. It was critical that we took tabs of our surroundings, living in secret for so long, guarding a realm like that. I discovered shortly that not only did I have an affinity for it, but was rather good at it as well. One meeting with the map-makers led to another..."

"Aah, I can see how that can happen." Erestor looked pleased. "So you have a head for landscapes. I imagine that has been useful in the field."

"Quite useful. In council, too, for knowledge of the land comes in handy for when one plans out one's battles."

"I can see that. I have heard once or twice that Glorfindel of Gondolin was a military genius. A head for maps and knowing the land is an interesting addition to one's military arsenal, I must say."

Glorfindel had to laugh at that. "First of all, 'military genius' is quite a stretch--"

"Now I am beginning to wonder what other things contribute to your prestige."

"Prestige!" Glorfindel shook his head. "You are a historian, no? You realise all that you read cannot all be true."

"From what I have seen in the last age and the last war, I say some of the text knew what they were talking about." Erestor did not give Glorfindel any more room to protest, for he then asked, "And the other? Reading is all well and good, but I have seen your name in military writings before and your prose is promising. Do you write other things?"

Glorfindel paused, for it was a private hobby, not that he considered it a secret—only, perhaps that it was not widely known and he preferred to keep it that way. Still, this was Erestor, and he was never one to run off at the mouth as far as Glorfindel could tell. "On occasion," he relented. "Poetry, that is."

"I had thought as much, but it is no less surprising for its novelty." Erestor leaned back against his chair as one most pleased. "You should let me read your work sometime. I like poetry—cannot write them to save my life, but I read them with much fondness and enjoyment."

The way Erestor's eyes scrunched up when his smile widened like they did then was endearing, and it subdued any misgivings Glorfindel might have yet had at revealing his secret. He could not help but return that smile.

"Perhaps. We shall see, if the mood strikes."

 

 

* * *

Later, Glorfindel did not know when, Erestor left a map of Eriador on his desk.

 _'The best one we have,_ ' the note attached to it said. _'But the original was made long ago in Eregion, and Imladris, once it was built, was merely added in our own copies. You can tell it looks like it was only added as an afterthought, for it was, and this hardly suffices now if you ask me. The lands undoubtedly have changed. We have people on staff who have the skills for map-making. I could introduce you to them, if you wish.'_

It was a thoughtful gesture, one that had Glorfindel sighing fondly, alone now in his office lit only by candlelight.

When he was ready for bed, he left his rooms and walked with bare feet to the now familiar corridors that led to Erestor's rooms. Upon reaching the doors, Glorfindel carefully pressed his ear upon the wood, focused on Erestor's breath, and thus confirmed that the other slept. Just as quietly, he tested the doors to see if they were locked—a protector's habit, although one Erestor might not appreciate should he catch Glorfindel at it. The doors were locked anyway, which was just as well, and to be expected of the chief counsellor.

Glorfindel then bent down to deliver his errand for the evening. A piece of folded parchment was in his hand, a gift in return of Erestor's gesture earlier that day, and this he slipped through the gap under the door:

 _How does Love speak?_  
_In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek,_  
_And in the pallor that succeeds it; by_  
_The quivering lid of an averted eye--_  
_The smile that proves the parent to a sigh_  
_Thus doth Love speak._

 _How does Love speak?_  
_By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak_  
_Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache,_  
_While new emotions, like strange barges, make_  
_Along vein-channels their disturbing course;_  
_Still as the dawn, and with the dawn's swift force--_  
_Thus doth Love speak._

 _How does Love speak?_  
_In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek--_  
_The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender_  
_And unnamed light that floods the world with splendor;_  
_In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace_  
_In all fair things to one beloved face;_  
_In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;_  
_In looks and lips that can no more dissemble--_  
_Thus doth Love speak._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] _Iestor_ (Sin.) - first day (Q. "Yestarë")  
>  [2] _Fonoded_ (Sin.) - forecounting (to foresee through numbers; predictive statistics as it could have begun in Middle-Earth)
> 
> My thanks to Elaran for his help on the Sindarin translations!
> 
> Glorfindel's poem is an excerpt from Ella Wheeler Wilcox's "Love Language".

**Author's Note:**

> Find me in [tumblr](http://glorfindel-of-imladris.tumblr.com)!


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